


back door man

by allmywill



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Kissing, M/M, Prompt Fill, Singing, Song Lyrics, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmywill/pseuds/allmywill
Summary: John and Roger can’t keep their hands off each other or stop themselves from singing The Doors.
Relationships: John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	back door man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pink_and_Velvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/gifts).



> at the request of Tash aka JT’s long lost daughter: here’s a little something. will our conversations ever stop inspiring this kind of stuff? never.
> 
> too many Doors references to count!

_1983_

John’s so drunk he can’t see straight. Which is kinda funny, considering the situation he’s in right now.

Roger is in a similar state, holding onto the taller bassist’s bicep for support as they both stumble together down the hotel corridor. It’s well into the night and they’re trying not to be loud, but it’s not working out so well. They’re both singing and laughing, having the time of their lives together.

It’s a miracle they can even remember their room number and another when they actually find it. When John unlocks the door, Roger’s still hanging on his arm, his hands clutching onto him harder now.

John grabs him and pushes him against the wall once the door shuts and they’re alone. _“You know that it be would untrue, you know,”_ he laughs, his own terrible voice cracking him up, _“that I would be a liar.”_

Roger’s laughing too, face flushed as John’s nose bumps his. He joins John, almost in harmony, but not quite. _“If I was to say to you...”_

 _“Boy, we couldn’t get much higher!”_ John and Roger sing in unison, smiles on their faces growing wider.

John’s hands come up on each side of Roger’s head, resting on the wall behind him. He dives in for a bruising kiss, needy, hot like a burning flame. Roger responds right away, lips moving against John’s own, slipping his tongue into his mouth as soon as he gets the chance. His hands find his waist so he can pull his lanky body further into his own.

They rut against each other, disheveled after their night out. Roger pulls away from the kiss to strip John of his shirt. It drops to the floor carelessly and John moves to rid Roger of his own. He takes his time, partly from all his fumbling and partly because he wants to make this last. He runs his long fingers over his muscular chest, teasing him.

 _“Before you slip into...”_ John’s voice grows soft, trailing off as he recalls the lyrics. _“Unconsciousness.”_

Roger moans, his hands clumsy as they touch him. “Kiss me, Johnny.”

John chuckles, throwing his head back. “That’s not the line, my love.”

 _“I’d like to have another kiss,”_ Roger finishes the lyric. More come to him, he’s remembering how the song goes. _“Another flashing chance at bliss.”_

_“Another kiss?”_

_“Another kiss.”_

Their lips meet again, hands continuing to roam over each other’s skin. Roger’s fingers fumble with John’s buckle, in dire need of him, and soon. He gets impatient when he’s drunk, especially when John is involved. He needs his touch.

John cups his cheek, leaving sloppy kisses down his neck. He tilts his head back, exposing himself further, to give him better access.

 _“Touch me,”_ Roger croons, then bursts into a fit of giggles. “What is it with us tonight? Why The Doors?”

John ruts against him again, putting his hands back on him. They rest just under his ribcage; a vulnerable place, yet he allows it. “I dunno. Why not? _Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game,_ Roger!”

“You’re crazy.”

“So was Jim Morrison. Your point?”

Roger palms John through his leathers, his hands hot against the fabric, sticking to them both. “Be my _back door man_?”

John grunts. “Only if you’ll be _my wild love_.”

“Oh, yes.”


End file.
